It seems each year that you promise more and deliver less. Wasn't it just a few months back that you promised to be with me for many more days? You beckon and tease me in th spring, saying 'just you wait, this will be the best one ever,' only to swiftly depart.
We had such great plans to do stuff together, Summer, you and I.
Remember when we were going to make all that jam, not just dump the whole fruit in bags in the freezer for someday. We also promised each other to finish three bridesmaid dresses that actually fit the bridesmaids. You promised it would be a breeze. You even led me to believe we'd get around to some of those other half-finished crafty things stashed in the closet.
We started out great together. Vacation in San Diego was wonderful. A week of sun and beach and sky and sea.
"This is just the beginning," you whispered in my ear. "This lovely week is just a sample of the fun we will have for the next few months."
Summer--somehow you bogged me down in piddly projects that never amounted to anything. You distracted me from gardening by squandering my days with idle wishing. You kept me from my sewing by filling my head with thoughts of 'can't do.'
I can't even begin to list the books I haven't read, the places I haven't gone, or the relatives I haven't visited that you and I talked about last May.
One more week, Summer. That's all we have. One more week to read three shelves of books. Seven more days to visit assorted relatives. 1/4 of a month to finish dresses and make untold batches of jam and jelly.
Then you're gone. You and your empty promises.
Many stories herein are subject to the faulty, and sometimes creative, memory of the blog owner and should not be taken as factual, although the names and events are real! Kind of.